Claim

9

She was deep in the dream. Lyon was with her on Orcas Island, and they were walking on the rocky beach, Kira picking up shells when she glimpsed them between the rocks. When she looked up to show Lyon one she’d found, she saw that he was holding the hand of a small child.

They smiled down at her, the sun slanting across their faces.

And then he was suddenly next to her. Not on the beach, but in her bed, his lips hot on her shoulder, hands pushing her hair back from her face as he captured her mouth with his.

He was only a shadow in the room, and she sank into the kiss, reveling in the familiarity of his mouth, his tongue urgent as it explored her own.

She let her hands roam over his chest and realized he was naked. A bolt of white-hot lust galloped through her body, leaving a trail of fire. She moaned into his mouth as she mapped the sculpted peaks and valleys of his chest, the flat plane of his stomach.

His cock was already hard as granite, pressing against her thighs as if demanding entry she was all too eager to offer.

He took their kiss deeper, devouring her with his tongue and mouth, and she realized her pussy was already soaked for him, slick with desire that made her want to feel him slide into her warmth, push into her again and again.

She opened her thighs and wrapped her hand around his thick shaft, then moved to guide him between her legs while he plundered her mouth.

But instead of driving into her, he growled in her mouth and pulled away.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled as he got on his knees.

The moon had made its way through a bank of clouds, and it shone through the wall of glass like a spotlight on his enormous cock as it thrusted hungrily between his muscled thighs.

He was a glorious specimen of a man.

“Get on your knees, Kira.”

Disappointment coursed through her. She’d thought they were past his refusal to look at her, to kiss her, in bed at least. “No.”

His features softened in the moonlight and he leaned down to kiss her long and slow. “I’m going to look at you while I eat your pussy. Then I’m going to kiss you with the mouth that makes you come.”

She hesitated.

“Trust me.”

Trust. Such a small word. And such a complicated one between them.

She rose onto her knees.

“Hold out your hands,” he said.

She did and was surprised when he reached behind him on the bed and produced one of his ties. Before she had time to wonder what it was for, he tied her wrists together in a knot that would have hurt her wrists if not for the silk against her skin.

Need pulsed at her core as he reached behind him to produce another tie.

“What is that for?” she asked.

He grinned darkly. “My mother is in the house. Do you want her to hear you scream? Because I will make you scream, Kira.”

She should have refused. To be bound and gagged by her husband should have been an affront.

But her pussy was dripping, her desire running down her thigh as she imagined Lyon between her legs, his hot tongue running through her swollen folds, teasing her clit as he fucked her with his fingers.

“Okay,” she said.

He got off the bed and gently positioned the tie in her mouth. When he drew the knot snug behind her head, another surge of wetness flowed into her sex. She was desperate for him to fulfill his promise, to feel his mouth and fingers and cock everywhere in her all at once.

“Lay down,” he said when the gag was secure.

She lay back on the bed and he stretched out over her body, capturing her wrists in one hand and pulling them over her head. Her nipples were painfully erect, her breasts thrusting upward as she arched her back.

“That’s a good girl,” he soothed, stretching out next to her, trailing his hands over her breasts, down her belly (a rush of familiar panic; would he notice?). “I missed you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t come. I’m going to make it up to you.”

He cupped her mound with his hand and looked down at her face, then touched his mouth to hers, kissing her gently until it grew more frenzied, the press of his cock more demanding against her thigh.

“Keep your hands where they are.” Demand had crept back into his voice and she squirmed with desperation.

It was one of many things she loved about Lyon: the way he moved between tenderness and demand, the way she never knew whether he would coax her into submission or order her to obey.

That she liked doing both had come as a surprise.